


Disconnected

by purpleforbts



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Dystopia, Futuristic society, Immortality, Jeon Jungkook is Older Than Kim Taehyung | V, Kim Taehyung | V is a Sweetheart, M/M, Rebellion against the system, Slow Burn, Technology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-22 14:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleforbts/pseuds/purpleforbts
Summary: ARMY is the only nation that emerged from the ashes of the Last War. Today, thanks to technology, they are immortal. But a sudden menace threatens the guarantee of everlasting life. They must be prepared.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Taehyung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by. Quick note: The Portrayal of BTS and BlackPink Members in this fan fic will differ from their real life.  
> I shapped them in a way that fits the purpose of my story. I hope you'll Enjoy!

I'm immortal but I might die from the stress I get on this job. Officer of Central, a fancy title that I owe to my father. His unquestionable authority at Central favored me to retake the training when I didn't succeed the first time. I got assigned a partner, Park Jimin, after I finally made it. His obstinate refusal to communicate with me outside of work is a sempiternal reminder that I'm nothing more than a daddy's boy to him.   
  
Once you've completed the training, Central becomes your temporary home. The headquarters of the O.C.s are located underground of its property, the tower above sprouts to the sky, gloriously high, its thinness contrasts with the larger structures of the buildings surrounding it. You'd think that distinction would tarnish its splendor but in height, Central not only dominates downtown, it looks down on our entire country, ARMY.   
  
In history class we learn that our ancestors were the only survivors of the Last War. Hunger, pandemics and radiation had eradicated the nations of the Old World.  
  
Our ancestors traveled until they arrived on lands that were less affected by the radiation and established their ground. People from different ethnicities traveled amongst them; however the majority spoke English so it became the official language when they formed the first government.   
  
ARMY means that we're both survivors and fighters, after all we did vanquished death. Much later, in 906 A.L.W. - nine hundred six years After the Last War - our technology granted us immortality, that's when Central was born.   
  
Today in 1215 A.L.W. every human alive is fueled by the Energy that Central produces. The process appears simple: a syringe injects a fluorescent blue liquid that takes over the entire immune system. No more sickness. Limitless regeneration. No more pain. You're invulnerable. The only way you can die is if you get Disconnected by the Engineers of Central, which would require to have you brought to their labs where they can shut down your system. It's irreversible. But that won't happen as long as you keep paying Central.   
  
Energy is loaned. Officers of Central arrest citizens who missed payment. We bring them back to Central where they get Disconnected. Central always sends a 24-hour notice to debtors to warn of our arrival. This payment system is the reason why ARMY's lower and middle class held tremendous manifestations against the Immortality Bill. The year Central got inaugurated they tried to burn it down. "Life is Free" their banners said. The Bill passed nonetheless and everyone received a shot including babies.   
  
If someone had once told me that I would become an Officer of Central, I would have laughed until I peed my pants then went back to the book I'd probably be reading. Action is much more appealing to me when I read it on pages. No wonder I had to retake the training.  
  
Every day is torture. Every single one. This morning Jimin and I took away two children from a mother of three. They were twins. The mother's cries, when we dragged her kids to the car, still haunt me to this moment. She begged, threw herself on the ground, muddy from last night's rain, her hands wrapped around my ankles, she refused to let go.   
  
_"They are only ten!"_ She pleaded. I yanked my feet away. She wouldn't give up, got hold of my boot and caused me to stumble, I nearly ended up in the mud myself. _"They are only ten. Please!"_  
  
Her screams shattered my eardrums. I didn't hear Jimin come behind me. Soon my partner was on top of her, he grabbed a fist of hair, even detached from my boot her fingers reached desperately for me. Jimin threw her a great distance away. My eyes remained glued to her body curved in a miserable cocoon. I vaguely registered Jimin shoving me in the passenger seat. We kept silent the entire ride but when we arrived at Central before he stepped out of the car, his expected lecture struck like a whip from the hands of a merciless punisher.  
  
  
_"Get it together dude. This the last time I'm dragging your ass outta there. Do I need to remind you what happens to O.C.s who don't make it back to Central in time?"_  
  
No he didn't.  
  
_"Your daddy might be almighty but I got no one to cover my ass if we fail a mission because you chickened out."_  
  
I stayed in the car long after he took the twins inside the tower. The rest of the day, I spent in a haze. I bottled it in when we handcuffed a homeless couple. I bet Jimin huffed in relief when I didn't zone out again. Now in the darkness of the dorm phantom cries continue to assault me, there's nowhere to hide, no current mission to help me escape the demons I've created.  
  
_"They are only ten!"_  
  
I shield my ears with my forearms and bury my face in the pillow. Flashes cross my mind. Mud. Dirty fingers on my boot. Hair trapped in a gloved fist.   
  
_"They are only ten. Please!"_  
  
Make it stop.  
  
_"Please!"_  
  
I'm not cut for this job. I'm not.  
  
_"They are only ten!"_  
  
I'll quit. I don't care what my father said. I'll quit. I'll apply for a post inside the tower. I'll take any other job, anything but this. I can't. I can't. I--  
  
"Dude, you're okay up there?"  
  
My eyes snap open. What's that sound? My body freezes in realization. Moans of sorrow muffled in the pillow, they're coming from me. Way to go Taeyoung, you got yourself another star in your chicken status.  
  
"You know, the bathroom's right there. For _personal needs_." Jimin says again. The way he accentuates on the last two words clearly indicates that he misinterpreted the nature of the sounds I made.   
  
"It's just nightmares." I say. My voice comes out hoarse, I clear my throat. The silence settles in the room. I shift to lie on my back and start counting sheeps.   
  
"Wanna talk about it?"  
  
It takes a few seconds for Jimin's words to register. Is he suggesting that he's open to listen to me vent? Where is that coming from? Last time I checked he'd prefer partnering with a pile of rotten flesh instead of me.  
  
I do wanna talk about it though. However when I open my mouth no words escape. Where am I supposed to begin? With my father's outburst when I showed interest for botany instead of anatomy? Or should I start with the parts where he discovered that I had applied for other colleges besides the one that forms the Engineers of Central? Would Jimin's contempt lessen if he knew what ultimatum my father gave me?   
  
_"If you choose to turn down your legacy, don't expect me to invest in your rebellion act."_  
  
His message was clear. To study what I want I'll have to earn my own money.   
  
Training to become an Officer of Central is open to citizens of ARMY aged from 18 to 25. I matched all the the requirements: excellent academic tracks, no criminal records, no children. This last rule hits differently after what happened this morning. Every bad day on the job I remind myself that without a degree I can't afford to be picky. On top of the monthly salary, Central will also finance my studies once I've served the time on my contract. One month down, eleven more to go.  
  
Will Jimin care at all about those details? He never manifested the slightest concern regarding me before. I certainly don't want to bore him to the point he'd regret ever asking.   
  
Before I can make up my mind about what to share with him it hits me that I don't know a single thing about my partner. Here at base O.C.s generally eat in groups. No matter the time of day, the cafeteria always exhales that despicable high school atmosphere. The cool ones at a table, their voices dominate the place. The tough ones, their bodies are a fortress. If you're smart and can take cues from a cold stare you won't dare fix them for too long. The ghosts, they come in, grab their bite and go right outside. Jimin is a ghost whereas I'm more of a green plant. I sit by myself in a corner, I exist but don't communicate with my environment.   
  
"What made you decide to join Central?" The question breaks free before I can wield it not to. jimin scoffs. Is it because it's a funny story?  
  
"You're so predictable." I catch his whisper easily thanks to the ambient quietness. "I suppose you're asking because on the field I'm this heartless monster, right?"  
  
Well, I wouldn't phrase it in those exact words but... "You certainly act like one."  
  
He doesn't answer that. I'd be worried that I hurt his feelings if Jimin seemed the kind to care about what people think of him. After I passed training and we got introduced as partners, the first thought that crossed my mind as we handshaked was, "who pissed him off?" Turns out this was his signature amiable face. One that screams I will tackle you to the ground if you breathe too loud in my direction.   
  
"My grandfather was a history teacher." He says after a while. His tone is confidential. I can sense that whatever he's on the verge of revealing is precious to him. "After he retired I guess he must have missed teaching, he would sit little me on his lap and read this diary that has been passed down in our family."  
  
"A diary from the Old World?" I can't help asking.   
  
"Yeah. It was written by someone who lived during the Last War." He lets that revelation sink in. "Grandpa would explain which political decision led to a particular catastrophe the journal's writer had related. In my bones a rage so tense would ignite that Grandpa often had to tickle me after our reading sessions. You ever take the time to think about the Last War?" He doesn't let me answer. "Populations decimated just because someone, somewhere, in an office decided it? The bloodbath, innocent children getting bombed at school? People living in constant fear not even daring to set a foot outside? Being trapped within radiation?" His questions hang in the air, heavy, unanswered. "The journal's writer, a survivor of a nuclear attack that hit her hometown, narrated that she and hundreds of people gathered at the frontier of a neighbouring country. The soldiers wouldn't let anyone cross the border. They spent days camping there with no food supplies, no water. When many of them started to succumb to hunger and dehydration, the strongest ones attempted a mutiny. In the last entry the writer stated her intention of joining the mutiny. I'm sure you can imagine how that worked out for her."  
  
I don't recognize this Jimin, the revolt in his speech, the tremor in his words. I can't consolidate this new sight of his persona with the guy who threw a mother in the mud when she begged us to spare the life of her kids.  
  
"I never gave it that much thought." I confess. A millennium has passed since. It's easy to let ourselves forget the impact of those events when we didn't suffer the direct consequences.   
  
"One thing I know for sure, I never want to live in a world where there is war. And let's be honest without Central there would have never been a Disarmament Campaign."  
  
We sure have come a long way since 906 A.L.W. Our civilisation might not be able to eradicate evil, but without weapons and without the ability to physically hurt one another we can limitate the damage. Jimin does have a point though I'm not about to start praising Central anytime soon, not when authorities stay blind on brothels' proliferation in destitute neighborhoods of our City.   
  
"How can we afford to tag ourselves to be better than the Old World if we prioritize money when it comes to life?" I ask.  
  
"If Central gave away free Energy, it would have created anarchy."  
  
"Says who?"  
  
"Says the Old World. They had their lives for free and what did they do with it?"  
  
"You can afford to judge them now because you're immortal."  
  
"No, I can afford to judge them because I know how precious life is! That's the whole point. Why don't you get it? If people have to pay then they won't take it for granted. And if Central had made it so cheap that anyone could afford it, it would've lost its value. We are better than the Old World because we know that we'd rather work our asses off in order to be able to pay for life instead of having free life and be able to kill for money."  
  
Children should always be spared. I'm about to shout it at Jimin when a loud buzz echoes through the room. It's a siren that indicates we have another debtor to catch.   
  
In no time my partner is up and active. The light turns on, the complete surface of the ceiling irradiates a faint glow. I allow myself a moment of deep inhalation. One of our instructors from training was a master in Levitation. The Old World had a similar practice: meditation. Ours go far beyond. In a matter of seconds we can commend ourselves to push away unwanted feelings, anxiety, fear, remorse. My success rate at Levitation figured amongst the lowest of my camarades. I suppose it also explains why I'm this job's punching ball. Nevertheless the little I can accomplish in Levitation allows me to not puke when I'm about to take service.  
  
When my naked feet stand on the floor, I'm ready. I pull out one of the different jumpsuits that are exposed inside the closet. I remember the trouble I had to accommodate with the fabric when we reached the training level that required to wear them. A braver trainee than I had asked our instructor if those uniforms would allow the pores to breathe. He'd replied that the impression of discomfort would pass. He was right. And besides its multifunctions eventually made it feel more like a defense mechanism than a skin trap. I crouch down to lace my boots, check my reflection in the wall opposite to the bed, it's a giant mirror convertible in a TV when controlled by a remote.   
  
It's a miracle none of the Supervisors had told me to get a haircut already, my brown hair covers my eyebrows and tickles my ears. The bathroom's door opens on Jimin, in a glance I can tell he's already lost the edge of our argument. The amiable face I'm used to is now on display. He grabs the car key and we head out.   
  
In the hall outside we meet other O.C.s who return from a Chase. One of them carries a stinking smell that slaps my face in the opposite direction. I'm guessing the debtor he pursued had the overdue idea of hiding inside a bin.   
  
Debtors always think they can get away from us if they are fast enough, clever enough, lucky enough. That's never gonna happen. Our training and equipment guarantee it.   
  
When we reach the end of the hall Jimin turns left. "You get the file. I'll grab food. We'll meet at the car." He doesn't wait for any answer.  
  
I turn right to the elevators. The eightieth floor is animated by constant typing on keyboards, phones ringing and paper pouring out of printers. I zigzag between the alley of cubicles and head to the door with the symbol of ARMY's flag plastered on the glass surface. I enter the office without knocking, we don't have to when we've received a buzz.   
  
I'm familiar with the Supervisor behind the desk though I can't remember her name, the shifts vary a lot. When the woman looks up from her computer lines appear on her forehead. "Where's your partner?"  
  
"Waiting by the elevators."   
  
Her jaw twitches, my heart skips a beat. Because of Energy, feeding ourselves isn't a priority anymore, well, not for Jimin. The guy thrives on stuffing himself. He might be a brilliant O.C. but a Supervisor wouldn't let it slide if he purposely missed Check-in Protocol over snacks. I flash the Supervisor what I think is my most innocent smile. The moment passes.  
  
"File," she says. I grab the yellow folder she hands me. "Helmets." I take mine and Jimin's. "You sign here." A tablet and a stylus slide across the desk. I write: Kim Taehyung. Park Jimin.  
  
"The location of your new debtor is already transferred to the GPS in your car. You got three hours." It's the same chorus, all O.C.s know the protocol by heart. "Pass that delay the debtor is declared a fugitive. Report to Central and we'll send the Seraphim. If Central doesn't hear from O.C.s pass the given time you're also automatically declared a fugitive. You'll be captured and sent to court where your sentence will be determined. "  
  
I'm head down, reading the file of the debtor Jimin and I are tasked to bring back to Central, when someone else walks inside the elevator.   
  
"It's Taehyung, isn't it?"   
  
I recognize the girl instantly. Lalisa Manoban, she's a Seraph, a member of Central's air force. Our uniforms are similar except for the color, hers is white, mine's black. I can't help feeling my ego boosted that she knows my name until I realize that she probably wouldn't if it wasn't for my father's notoriety.  
  
"Hey, Lisa. Going on a Chase?"   
  
"Coming from one."  
  
"How was it?" As soon as I formulate the question, the urge to punch myself rises. Seriously Taeyoung, how was it? That's the last thing I'd want to be asked after a Chase.   
  
"Deadly." A sparkle ignites her eyes. I swear, Lisa excel in the art of being both sexy and terrifying with an angelic face. I force out a chuckle. "Where's your partner?" She asks.  
  
Ugh, this is about Jimin. I can only hope she can't read my deception like an open book. "Probably waiting in our car, you want to tag along?"  
  
"Nah. I have a better idea. Would you give him a message for me?"   
  
"Okay, su--" my sentence dies, muffled in the kiss. I don't move. This is not for me, it's a message, for Jimin, my partner. This-is-not-for-me. Oh! She tastes like strawberries. Okay forget it. I guide her backwards until her back hits the wall.   
  
**_Ding!_**  
  
The world hates me.   
  
Lisa winks when she steps out of the elevator. "Tell him, I'll be giving those to someone else if he doesn't take me on a date by the end of the week."  
  
Would that make me a bad person if I forget to deliver the message?  
  
The lobby of the tower swarms with employees. When you look up from here you don't see the ceiling; outside the tower, its spike gets lost in the clouds. Central's employees call the highest floors the Needle, Seniors work there, they have since the foundation of the tower. So far they're the only citizens of ARMY who have crossed the three-century threshold.   
  
Amongst the wealthiest families of our country there are also some Seniors around two centuries old, the weight of time is noticeable by their platinum hair. The Energy fueling our system also alters the aging process and allows our elders to remain sturdy. They'll never die of old age, their body will never weaken.   
  
When I get inside the car I have to push off my seat three cans of energy drink that weren't there last time. Jimin, eating a sandwich, mumbles his mouth full, "Took you long enough."   
  
I toss him the file. "Maybe you should consider not drinking so much on service." He doesn't even need it. It's almost an insult to our Energy to drink those stuff.  
  
"Keeps me awake."   
  
"Makes you pee a lot too."  
  
His sandwich finished, Jimin reads the file. I study his expression in hope that a flicker of surprise will appear at some point. That doesn't happen. He's still concentrated on the document when he says, "Nice lipstick you got there."  
  
My head swerves to the rearview mirror, the vestige of Lisa's kiss lingers on my lips. I relate my encounter with her while Jimin flips the pages. He doesn't look the slightest disturbed.  
  
"I guess she did receive my anonymous flowers after all."  
  
Huh. I guess he isn't the jealous type, or the idea of my being a potential rival is so laughable he doesn't give it a thought. I should take offense of that, I mean-  
  
Wait a minute, Jimin-sent-flowers-to-a-girl? Anonymously. What am I going to discover next, he's hiding a puppy in our room?  
  
He pops open another can of energy drink. He's done reading the file and doesn't seem puzzled by its content. I point out, "That's an odd one we've got."  
  
"The debtor?"  
  
"Yeah. I mean, Jeon Jungkook, who would've thought?"   
  
There are names you'll never see on a Chase file:   
President and First Family.   
My dad.   
Children under ten years old.  
  
Other names, rich citizens, are simply rare to find on a Chase file, Jungkook falls in that category.   
  
"Guess he was too busy defying death to remember he has to pay Central." Jimin refers to what he read on Jungkook's file.   
  
Immortality breeded an horrifying amount of reckless people. There was this guy who set himself on fire and walked around the City. He got arrested, that didn't stop the waves of copycats though. Our police's struggle to eliminate underground showrooms is an endless battle, there people pay to watch the goriest exhibitions. This year Jungkook got arrested in every police raid of those forbidden showrooms.   
  
Usually people do it for the money but Jungkong clearly has other motivations. His family owns the biggest transport corporation of our country, the guy isn't in need of clandestine cash. Even O.C.s' cars and Seraphim's air-capsules are issued from his family's factories. Our cars are the fastest of ARMY, on purpose. If we're gonna catch a debtor we can't risk him having the means to outdistance us.   
  
"Those types of people do not loan Energy from Central." I say. "They buy it, you know that. They aren't even considered debtors, at Central they are referred to as customers."  
  
"Well this futile distinction gives the illusion that they aren't like everybody else. You don't renew the deal, you get tossed, plain and simple."  
  
ARMY's lower and middle class sign different contracts with Central than those of the wealthiest class. They are not allowed to buy more or less than five decades worth of Energy at once and every five years they have to renew the contract. Sometimes I wonder if they realize that they're being "professionally robbed." Here, take the average middle class citizens, they sign a loan of two decades and pay monthly until they're done and sign another contract for two more decades. Rich people could choose that option but I suppose that when you have plenty of money you don't wanna be tagged a debtor.   
  
"You think his family is gonna stand by and let us take him? The only heir to their empire?"  
  
"They'll make new heirs."  
  
"They won't let us take him away."  
  
"No one is above Central, Taehyung." He throws at me his empty can. I swallow the profanities on the tip of my tongue because Upset Jimin equals Crazy Driver Jimin.  
  
We leave Central behind. As usual downtown's traffic is heavy at night. The chronometer on my watch has started the countdown. I think about my dad, somewhere in the Needle, his office overlooking the country. Jimin couldn't be more right, No one is above Central. Tonight Jeon Jungkook will get Disconnected.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes or no to the Immortality Bill?


	2. Jennie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purpose of the story there will be 3 narrative POVs. Taehyung, Jennie and Jungkook.

  
Rosé has this mantra she loved to repeat when I worked with her at the Child Care Center. _If it feels too easy, you're probably doing it wrong_. I have to admit, changing diapers wasn't my strong suit. Maybe if I didn't grow up an only child I would've gotten the hang of it. 

At school, in biology class we learn that, before Energy, giving birth wasn't as simple as it is today. Complicated pregnancy, labour pain and sterility are some of many terms that no longer apply to our society. Welcoming a little human being into our world is so easy that families often find themselves with their hands full. 

In Upper Class neighborhoods having a lot of children is implicitely considered a token of privilege. Where I come from it's another matter. The more new borns, the greater the risks of future funerals. 

Low Class neighborhoods are the furthests districts from Downtown, the financial lung of our city Arlene. 

I haven't set foot in my old neighborhood since I graduated from college. I'm working a part-time job at Central as a Supervisor. I finally got the post after a year of internship glued inside those suffocating cubicles. Twelve months during which Jungkook never ceased to remind me that his parents had the necessary relations to help me get the post sooner. I declined every time he offered. I wanted to earn this position even if it meant delaying finding her. 

I've succeeded building a barrage to hold the waves of childhood memories attached to Jisoo, but one often resurfaces despite my attempts to keep it at bay, the morning Jisoo's mother got arrested by the police.

I witnessed the scene from my bedroom window. She tried to twist away, wringgled her feet, refusing to be carried, her body contortioned in spasms of rebellion. My attention deviated from this hysterical picture to the group that followed, the men in suit from the Child Care Service. They guided Jisoo and her five siblings to their vehicles. 

At six in the morning, no rational thought filtered through my brain. I bolted out of my bedroom with a clear objective in mind, to rescue my best friend. I had almost made it to the front door when I stumbled upon a barrier, my dad. Two strong arms lifted me off the ground, in a moment I was back in my room with the door locked. I ran back to the window, only to find no trace of a living soul in the streets. 

Jisoo and I met at school. I was eating a small portion of cake during break, while other kids chased each other on the playground. Jisoo approached me, not to strike a conversation, but to stare at the pastry, she seemed to study it, maybe she'd even poke at it from a safe distance if she had a piece of wood. It didn't take me long to realize she had never seen a cake before.

In Low Class neighborhoods food is an extravagence that most families decide not to give in, some people only buy food during holidays or other special occasions. It pinched my heart that the little girl in front of me never had a cake for her birthday. I invited her to sit next to me. I introduced myself, Jennie Kim. We shared my cake and we became inseparable until Child Care Service took her away. Later that day I heard my parents talked in hushed voices about the morning incident. 

"Such irresponsibility," my mother was saying. "You can't hide new borns from authorities. They always find out."

One of the men in suit had a baby in hands. My stomach clutched. Jisoo, her brothers and sisters, they would be all alone from now on. I continued eavesdropping and gathered more information about what happened.

Instead of going to the Maternity Center, Jisoo's mother had given birth to her latest child at home. She hid the baby to save him from getting the Energy shot which is a crime punishable by the law. She would be sentenced to jail and her children would reside at the Child Care Center until they turned 16. 

_What next?_ I wanted to ask. But I could easily guess it. Jisoo and her siblings would end up in the streets. I vowed to prevent that from happening but I was only thirteen, I couldn't do much beside wait until I got old enough to be able to volunteer at the Child Care Center. Three years passed. I counted each second until I could be reunited with Jisoo.

Downtown is one train ride away from Low Class neighborhoods, not everyone can afford to pay the trip. My parents knew how important it was to me so they economized to help me. 

When I arrived at destination, I understood in an instant the origin of its nickname, the Heart of Arlene. I had only seen Downtown during Official Announcements in the only billboard we had in my neighborhood. It rises from the traffic circle that connects residential quarters with other itineraries of our neighborhood: school, market, the precinct and the gapeholes - those areas that our police turn a blind eye to. 

Inside the bus that carried me toward the Heart of Arlene, my palms and forehead pressed against the window, my eyes taking in the majesty.

Downtown is shaped around Central's tower like a disc with the first half occupied by the business area: Leisure, Finance, Education, Goods & Services and the other half reserved to the Upper Class residential quarters. 

Back at home I'd catch girls of my school with magazines, they daydreamed about their favorite personalities. I'd get a glimpse of the pages. Some of those people lived in mansions as resplendent as the hotels in Downtown. 

A different atmosphere reigned at the Child Care Centre. Rows of cribs with crying babies, employees running around like headless chickens. I stood there, helpless, until a girl around my age gave me a pile of towels. I followed her.

While working with Rosé I learned that most babies came from Low Class neighborhoods. Police officers would find them inside a basket left a street corner or burried in trash bins. 

Babies cannot receive the Energy shot until they're six months old and this period is the hardest at Center. They get sick, cry non-stop and need constant attention. The government pays the Energy bill of all residents of the Center, but employees are so underpayed that they're always in need of volunteers.

I didn't find Jisoo nor any of her siblings at the Center. Rosé helped me search their names in the database. No result, they'd never been there.

With what my parent economized I could make the trip to Downtown twice a week. Working at the Center procured me a sense of stability that anchored me to reality when I was tempted to succumb to the despair of not finding Jisoo 

During quiet hours when most babies slept, Rosé would take me for a promenade in Downtown's shopping districts. Even standing outside I felt out of place as if the fancy mannequins would suddenly turn at me, scornful, and order me to leave.

I would let Rosé dragged me inside one of those clothing store in Downtown that you couldn't enter without a membership card. I often noticed Rosé and the doorman exchange discreet waves. When I asked about it, she told me that he was her father.

We'd visit different departments, fit on some clothes with abundence of feathers and flashy colors that hurt the eye miles away. Rosé would vainly try to conceal her hilarity when I impersonated the pompous mannerism of Upper Class girls. 

We were in that store when I saw them for the first time, none of immitations had prepared me for the moment . I counted eleven girls dressed in identical outfits. They left behind the tail of fur coats that swiped the marble floor. Their handbags sparkled with encrusted gemstones. Their glasses, v shaped, gold framed, pushed on the bridge of their nose, seemed more accessories than a protection against the sun. Their heels click-claked in unission, perfectly synchronized. 

"The Jeon sisters," Rosé whispered in my ears. "Rumor has it that before the girls, Mr. Jeon had a boy who didn't survive. Poor baby got sick and died before he was eligible to get the Energy shot. After that Mrs. Jeon kept popping babies until she finally had him." 

Behind the line of mesmerizing goddesses, hands in pocket, relaxed, he exhaled a different appeal than his sisters, subtler but magnetic, you couldn't stop looking. _I_ couldn't stop looking.

Jeon Jungkook.

Rosé, the next day, mischieviously twiddling her fingers, almost screeched when she told me, "The most coveted bachelor of Arlene is here for you."

Here, at the Center. Rosé explained that when she arrived, Junkook was working with one of the older volounteers. She recalled our encounter with him at the clothing store. "I knew I caught an eye contact between you two!"

I avoided any aisle of the Center that he worked in for a whole week. If I indeed caught his attention, I knew it was only due to our environment. I'm not some fancy girl from an Upper Class neighborhood. I told him so on an afternoon he cornered me outside of the Center. He persisted on pursuing me.

"I think I'll pass on playing a role in your fuck-my-family revenge scheme." 

We were both at the laundry room of the Center. I internally cursed Rosé who left me alone the moment Jungkook had stepped inside. It enraged me more that his smugness remained immune to my harsh words.

"I happen to be in good terms with my family." I must haven't looked convinced, he added with pursed lips, "Okay, fine. The most annoying human beings on the planet are probably my sisters" the grimace he fought off nearly cracked me up. "But I manage."

"And I suppose your parents will be thrilled that their unique son is hanging out with a Low Class girl?" I crossed my arms, chin held high. "How charming they must be."

He dismissed my argument with a nonchalant shrug. "If Mother has her regular dose of caffeine and Dad's numbers are looking good, which they always do, they are pretty easy to deal with."

I don't know why I couldn't contain the most idiotic giggle in the history of humanity. I busied myself with the task of unloading the machine to hide my embarrassment.

"Where should I pick you up?" There. A teeny-tiny bit of cockiness. I finished folding the laundry. 

I refused to lie to myself. I was attracted to Jungkook. The problem was the part of me that gently mocked Jisoo when she became like those girls at school, obsessed with those magazines, fantasizing about Upper Class bachelors, people out of reach, who would never look in our direction. However, another part of me knew that if Jisoo were there I wouldn't second guess it if she encouraged me to take the leap. That part won when I answered Jungkook. "Let's see how long you last in this Center."

There's a rumbling. The foundations holding my barrage in place snap on after another. I'm left defenseless, vulnerable and the waves of memories I've kept in flood over. Just a picture. That's all it took to set Jungkook free from where I've burried him.

I put down the Chase file and turn to my computer to make a quick research in the database of O.C.s. The ID at the top of the list of the most performent Officers catches my attention. Park Jimin. Rosé's younger brother was only twelve when I met him that afternoon his sister invited me to their house in a Middle Class neighborhood. Even back then he demonstrated a fierce admiration toward Central and claimed he'd be the best O.C. ARMY ever had.

According to his ID, Jimin's 20 years old now. He's been in service for two years already and got one more on his contract. He arrested all debtors of every Chase he got sent to. No fugitive at all. Perfect.

I click on his partner's ID. For some reason, the face and the name are also quite familiar but I can't place him. This one's a rookie, only 18, but with Jimin for partner there's no dout the Chase will be in great hands.

The green button below their names indicates that they're not on service, they registered to their dorm few hours ago. I slide the curser on the red button, CALL.  
This will activate the sirene in their room.

A few minutes later it isn't Jimin that enters the office but his partner. He feeds me an excuse about Jimin's absence. I try to keep it cool, no need to go off on the kid. 

I give him Jungkook's file and tell him protocol. It isn't until minutes afterwards, when they are surely on the road that I remember where I know him from. Kim Taehyung.

_How could I not remember his father?_

I storm out of the office, the stare of many employees from the cubicles turn toward me.

I'm not the bossy kind. I prefer obeying to instructions instead of giving orders but I guess if I could take care of crying babies without ceding to panic I can handle supervising a Chase. 

"Alright everyone suspend all activities and give priority to the current Chase led by Officers Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung."

The sound of typing on keybords resumes. The east wall ligts up in a blue font, it displays two words, No Signal.

An employee remarks, "Looks like they didn't activate the live feed of their helmets." 

"They haven't arrived yet at the debtor's location." I try to maintain an impassive compusure when confusion reads on their furrowed brows. Normally Supervisors only lead a Chase once the debtor becomes a fugitive, O.C.s on the field are then backed up with the extra eyes here at Central. 

But I don't want to wait until Jungkook slip under Jimin's hands. I know he will and I'll be damned if I let that son of a bitch escape. 

"While we await for O.C.s to arrive on the field I want cameras on our debtor's relatives. Name's Jeon Jungkook. His friends, his barber, his dog, everyone. If they know the guy I want them live on this wall."

They start executing my commend, small video squares pop on the wall around the No Signal window. I spot many live feed showing different angles of his sisters at a gala, his dad videoconferencing, his mom asleep, his closest friends partying in night clubs. More squares appear. Everyone is on the wall except the person I'm looking for.

"We have located Jungkook's car but there's no cameras on him." A few more squares pop up, displaying the interior of a casino. The scarcity of clients rouses my curiosity. This popular casino should be crowded on a Saturday night. 

"Underground showrooms." I say. The hosts of these exhibitions have a wealthy clientele, thus their being able to acquire the gadgets that allow them to slide off the radar. We'll have to wait until the O.C.s arrive to have a feed. 

An employee brings me an earpiece and I put it into place. I perch on a desk. Tonight, before Jungkook get Disconnected I will get him to spit out the location of my baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What baby?


	3. Jungkook

I could almost kiss Namjoon, except he'd punch me in the face, so I go for a fist bump which he ignores in favor of his paperwork. "The girls will get you ready for the arena," he says. "There are two more exhibitions scheduled for tonight, you'll go last."

I turn around and point my fingers to the gorillas standing by the door. "You hear that fellas? I'm back in business baby."

You could break a hammer on their faces. I suppose they lost their sense of humor after countless relocations due to one too many raids my presence had provoked throughout this year. 

Underground showrooms are already such a risky business but I add to their trouble by bringing my ass here. I don't know how my dad tracks me down, cameras of the City cannot detect these places, their owners invest quite a lot to make sure of it. Nevertheless every time I come to Namjoon, his place gets busted by the police. 

"Remind me why you're still here?" His annoyed voice clues me about the regrets already invading his mind after his decision of letting me battle tonight. I get out of the office before he changes his mind.

There might be quite a few situations where Namjoon would refuse me a favor but in a lifetime of friendship we've never come across such predicament.

Namjoon's family and mine have been partnering in business for decades. The Kims are in Electronic Devices, the Jeons are in Transports. We both have far too many siblings for our liking but whereas I have eleven older sisters, Namjoon has eleven older brothers. The irony is that, after the first boy his parents kept hoping for a girl that never came. 

Unlike me, Namjoon never had to worry about taking his place in the family legacy. I spent all my life being trained as the unique heir of an empire, while he played with the gadgets his family produced as a hobby. Our mothers are as closed as two sisters so all our siblings are well acquainted with one another, however Namjoon and I share a tighter bond. I don't recall us ever formally stating that we'd always be a team but if I had to pick a significant moment that determined the fate of our relationship, it probably goes back to when we were eight. I would often catch him in tears during Mother's frequent visit to Mrs. Kim. When I confronted him about it, proud little Namjoon wouldn't admit that he was a cry baby. 

"I told you to let me be," he whined from his fetal position where I found him behind a bookshelf in his dad's study. 

The self-absorbed brat that I was saw the perfect opportunity to exert some power trip. "Think I'll stay a while," I said. "Enjoy the show a little longer." 

It was the first we used our fists against each other, and certainly not the last. 

Little Namjoon's favorite activities included pulling the worst imaginable pranks on his siblings using the family gadgets. Of course his parents gave him hell for that. Eventually he stopped crying and endorsed his black sheep identity with panache. 

When we graduated from college three years ago, I remember asking him if he'd finally consider working in the family business. 

"You know it can't be that bad," I said. "I mean don't kid yourself you'll undoubtedly be bossed around by your older brothers but look at the bright side, you get to still make good money and leave the huge responsibility stuff to them. Isn't that appealing?"

His eyes sparkled with a wildfire when he answered me. "I don't want a job Kookie, I want an adventure."

At 24, Namjoon is the youngest Host of Underground Showrooms of the City and is also at the top of the list targeted by the police. His clientele consists of the most eclectic members of Arlene's Upper Class community.

When I step inside the prep room, I find the girls, makeup artists, hairdressers, stylists, huddled on the couch drawn to the spectacle of the current exhibition displaying on the screen wall. 

Once they notice me, the atmosphere rises several degrees. I seem to have been missed quite a lot. They shriek and hover around me like a buzzing beehive. I'm undressed in the blink of an eye and thrown into the fitting process. Normally if I was scheduled for an exhibition tonight I'd have an outfit ready but I barged in unannounced. Dad had me on house arrest. It's been a real pain to find a way to break free. 

Everybody agrees on the last outfit I try on, a cream tunic that wraps around my torso and right shoulder, the base doesn't reach far on my thighs. The girls make me turn this way and that, to "judge the effect." I oblige, in good gentleman that I am. For the rest of the preparation my hair and face are their slaves. When I admire the final result in the dresser's mirror I feel sorry for their artsy work that's gonna be drowned in blood pretty soon. 

What distinguishes Namjoon from the concurrence is that his exhibitions are based on a theme, apparently tonight it's Ancient Rome. Those people lived so long ago they might as well be called the _Old_ Old World.

The audience erupts in cheers as soon I step inside the arena, an enclosed space of four glass walls. From what I hear the public tonight is mostly feminine. Now I get why Namjoon didn't let me beg for long before accepting to give me an exhibition. He expects me to close the night with a fabulous show for the ladies. 

My opponent, a seven feet pile of muscles dressed in a gladiator outfit paces the arena with a mace that he whirls in the air with ferocious grunts that resonates through the speakers that are fixed above the arena alongside the screens broadcasting our faces in close angles to the audience.

They only gave me a chain whip for my defense, no shield to protect myself. They want to see blood spill fast. 

I let Muscle Machine have his "god time" and wait patiently in my side of the arena. I should go for his neck. It's a risky shot but if I can pull it off I'll K.O. him in no time. A flash of blue catches my attention in the right corner. Someone threw their bra against the glass wall, which I barely get a glimpse of before it falls. I look in the general direction from where it came. In the front rows all the girls are off their seats jumping and screaming. I catch a pair of breasts, quite voluminous I must say, bouncing higher than the others, my gaze travels up to meet the girl's eyes. No doubt the bra was hers. I wink. She lifts her top. 

_Wo- oh!_

I miss the gong that announces the beginning of the battle and reacts a second too late when I hear my adversary charge in my direction. My feet retreats on their own, my head starts turning towards him, bad reflex.

Bang!

His mace sends me flying against a wall, I momentarily loose equilibrium but manage to remain standing. If I fall now he wins. Now that the battle has begun the assembly is on fire. As always you can't tell if they're cheering up for the red that is dripping from my wound or to boost up their favorite opponent.

The rule inside the arena is to fight until the gong strikes again. They have their own system for choosing who the winner is. Often it's about who delivered the most critical blows.

The first time I felt pain, it was so disturbing that I couldn't identify it on the spot. After that brief episode it continued to return occasionally and each time it lasts longer. Since Central's implementation in ARMY, I've never heard of anyone being able to feel pain after they've received the Energy shot. Not even Namjoon knows I have these episodes. The only person I confided in was Jennie, though as soon as my parents learned about the baby, I had greater things to worry about than physical pain.

After the battle, a group of girls from the assistance are waiting for me in the prep room. I fought like hell to destroy this idea of having "autograph sessions" in Namjoon's mind but he's one stubborn bastard. 

I hand back the handkerchief, her owner smiles and thanks me before getting escorted out of the prep room by a guard. I move on to the next girl, she hands me a neon highlighter and lowers the collar of her blouse so I can sign on the space between her clavicle and the top of her breast. 

"Anything in particular?" I ask. 

She states proudly, "Jeon Jungkook was there."

_So we're getting creative. Can't say I mind it._

I start writing, the glowing letters are pink against her skin. This highlighter is a 48-hours lasting one. I bet she'll parade with this autograph to spite her friends, the thought of it makes me smile a little. Sometimes it's so easy to make people happy, if only it could be that easy all the time. I tried to make Jennie happy, think it even worked for a while. Wouldn't surprise me if she wishes me dead now. 

In my peripheral vision I notice small hands making their way toward the hem of my tunic. "I see you." I say. The hands drop instantly, I finish autographing the other girl. Now there's only the two of us left in the prep room with the guard waiting to escort her by the door. The girl is red tomato when she meets my stare, she has big brown eyes and purple bangs, the rest of her hair is a long curtain of black swaying upon her waist. I cross my arms and decide to scold her a little.

"Just what do you think you were gonna do there young lady?" 

She shakes her head, the movement causes her voluminous hair to swing across her face. My attention is brought lower and then I realize, "Hey! You're the one who threw that bra earlier."

Her mouth hangs open in shock. She obviously didn't expect me to remember what she looked like and now we're in front of each other and she undoubtedly remembers that I saw her naked chest. She copies me and crosses her arm but it's a gesture to hide herself, she's embarrassed. 

So many young girls come to see those bloodbaths that I wonder what the heck are their parents doing. They should keep a closer watch on their daughters. There are all kinds of demented lurking around after exhibitions. 

_There you go again Jk, thinking like an overprotective dad._

I snap out of it. The girl is shyly hypnotized by a point on the rug. I exhale, deciding to swallow down my admonishment about her throwing underwear in public. No need to make this weird for her.

"So, what's your name?" I ask.

She keeps her stare down. "Kiyomi Saito."

That's a very nice name. Her family must have Japanese ascendants from the Old World. Mines were Korean. If I remember geography class correctly Japan and Korea were neighboring countries.

"Did you bring anything to get signed, Kiyomi?" 

Once again she shakes her head, I move toward the dresser "Is it okay if I give you a necklace of mine then?"

I'll never know what she was about to say, the door of the prep room cracks open and I veer back to see two people enter, they're wearing black jumpsuits and helmets. 

Officers of Central. 

Kiyomi and I exchange a glance. Are they here for her? No, I don't think so. Everything about her stance screams Upper Class girl. Perhaps they're here for the guard. My attention drifts to where he stood. He's not here anymore, probably made a run for himself. I suppose those two wouldn't still be standing there if they had come for him. One of the O.C.s approaches us, his voice comes out electronically distorted.

"Jeon Jungkook, you are indebted to Central and have missed the final notice for payment. You are therefore subject to get Disconnected."

_What?_

I don't have time to plead my case and argue that I owe nothing Central. These guys won't listen. If I let this one get to me I'm done for. Kiyomi's worried expression triggers a welcoming plan, I launch to her. In an instant I have her pinned against my body in a headlock. She yelps but doesn't try to resist my hold on her. 

I murmur in her ears, "You're safe" then say aloud, "Another step and I freeze her." 

The O.C. stops. None of us moves during a few silent seconds. They're probably communicating with each other, even if I can't hear them, wondering if I'm bluffing. 

The police is the only force in ARMY that has weapons capable of restraining civilians. When fired the metal chips plaster themselves on the body and the electric charge that they release immediately paralyze the individual. The government didn't allow Central to procure their Officers with the same weapons but I've seen them in action once, manhandling a debtor who was trying to flee, they know where to apply pressure on the body to disrupt the flow of Energy and cause paralysis to someone. I don't actually know how to do that but these O.C.s wouldn't risk Kiyomi to become a casualty in their Chase.

I take a few steps back.

"You're trapped in here anyways," the other O.C. says. "We're not letting you out that door."

_Ha! Didn't think you would._

I've made it to the wall. They must be thinking that desperation is making me act stupid. While maintaining my grip on Kiyomi, with the other hand I find the mechanism that triggers the secret getaway. When they realize what I'm doing it's too late I've already pressed the button and the portion of the floor where I stand pivots with the wall, and just like that we're facing a dark empty hallway. 

I let go of Kiyomi. "Sorry for this inconvenience." 

"But that must be a mistake!" She pleads. "ou can't get Disconnected, not you!" 

"I won't." I quickly survey the area, it seems clear. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

She throws her arms around me in an unexpected hug, I reciprocate. 

"I have family in the second City. Maybe they could hide you?" 

She means Ravière, some fugitives do make it there sometimes but most of them only succeed at getting two days of hideout before they're captured. 

No, I'm staying in Arlene. I know the place to go that will buy me some time until I figure out where the heck does this so-called debt comes from. I leave Kiyomi on the promise of being careful and head for the door that hides the never ending staircase that leads to the rooftop of the casino. I'm certain Namjoon has already left. I'll need him to help me stay off the radar but first I gotta go see Yoongi. My baby is with him and I gotta make sure that she'll be safe before I run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ravière is pronounced: Rah-vee-air
> 
> Theories on what is "wrong" with Jungkook?


	4. Taehyung

  
The control panel displayed on the screen inside my helmet gives me all the information that I need to know about the debtor of this Chase, Jeon Jungkook. On the right side are all the vital informations about his immune system, the data informs me that Jungkook is considerably weakened, judging from the dried blood I'd say he was in an exhibition just before we arrived at the casino. This put the odds in our favor, he would be easily defeated in any form of close combat and wouldn't be able to cause us much trouble in terms of running away. 

"Do I get him?" I ask Jimin. He stayed by the door to prevent any escape. When I approached him, Jungkook took the girl we found with him in a headlock. 

_Taking an unarmed civilian as hostage. I thought you were better than that Kookie._

But then again from what I've read on his Chase file Jungkook seems to have strayed from this boy I've been keeping an eye on since my teenage libido awakened.

"No. Stay put," Jimin instructs. "Let's call his bluff. Even if he can Neutralise the girl, which I highly doubt, we can always contact Central to send someone to put her back to normal."

I do as Jimin says and hold still, my eyes never leaving Jungkook. I wonder how he'd react if he was able to guess my identity behind the tainted shield. Would there be that many citizens applying to be an O.C. if the job didn't confer such anonimity? I doubt so. You don't want people to remember your face when you take away their loved ones to death. And what happens if the debtor is someone you know? I've never heard of that happening among the O.C.s I'm pretty sure the job of Supervisors include running a background check when a Chase file arrives to make sure that the debtor has no tie with the O.C.s that will be dispatched. 

Maybe that woman I saw earlier is new and that's why I couldn't remember her name. She clearly made a mistake or else I wouldn't be standing here starring at the face that I grew up seeing at every business dinner my father hosted. The first time I remember his attending at those dinners alongside Mr. and Mrs. Jeon I was 13. Jungkook had just acquired an important nomination at Jeon industries. He must have been around 18 and boy was he smoking hot. I couldn't stop looking at him. His tux, his fringe, the way his fingers wrapped around his fork and knife, those same fingers that held mines when we handshaked earlier that evening. Every time I saw him at those dinners my hand and a certain part of my anatomy kept me awake at night...

Heck, for all I know that Supervisor might have figured out her mistake and is probably monitoring the Chase right now to make sure I don't mess up. I guess I won't know until she decides to speak to either Jimin or me.

"Get him!" Jimin's scream in my hear startles me. Too late we both realize that Jungkook only used the civilian as a decoy. His real goal was to retreat to the wall where a getaway was apparently hidden. I launch for him but he's already gone, I'm left facing the empty spot where he stood only seconds ago.

Concious that there might be extra pair of ears listening to us I try to adapt my most professional tone when I speak to Jimin. "There's only two ways he can exit the casino, either the roof or the entrance aboveground."

"I'll take the roof," Jimin says.

I don't argue even if my gut tells me that it's where Jungkook is headed. I have a plan. 

Jimin and I get out of the room and scatter in different directions. If Jungkook is still that smug, calculating boy, he'll try to get his hand on a motorcycle. Not only is it a sure mean of outdistancing us, at least for a while, he's incredible biker too. I've seen him in action. 

Once outside, I spot his silhouette easily on the roof running toward the back of the casino where the parking is located down below. Got him! I run in parallel with the building, I commend the AI of my helmet, Pixxie, to evaluate the area for the nearest motorcycle. It take her about five seconds to answer me. The model found is one of the latest designed by Jeon industries and of course the license is registered under the name Jeon Jungkook. 

We both reach the parking at the same time, him above, evaluating his options. His head turns behind, Jimin must be catching up to him. He's cornered. Wether he jumps or not I'll either get him or my partner will.

He jumps. 

_Sorry Kookie. Game's over._

He releases his fist and two metal chips, reflect the moonlight as they fall my way. They're shapped like arrow spikes.

Shit. Deactivators. They'll completely shut down my equipment's system if even one of them touches me. No more extra speed for a solid thirty minutes. I drop on the ground and do a back flip just in time for those mini bastards to land where I stood. I think I'm safe until one of them flies off the ground aims toward me with the accuracy of an arrow shot straight at me. I doge, right, left, it's no use. I jump on the roof of cars, the metal chip follows incessantly, in the corner of my eyes I see Jungkook disappearing between the labyrinth of the few vehicles in the parking. 

_He's using this thing as a diversion to get away!_ Can't let that happen, I'll have to do this without the extra speed. Jimin's voice suddenly resonates in my hear, "Taehyung, don't let that thing get to you!"

I crouch in extremis to let the chip fly over my head and continues my random pattern of jumping from car to car, in order to prevent it from getting to me. "The debtor is getting away, this is only a Deactivator."

"No it's not. My foot landed on one and I'm actually frozen in place."

"Roger."

Neutralizers? How the heck did Jugkook got his hands on those? In the distance I hear the roaring engine of Jungkook's bike. Alright, it's time for extreme measures. 

"Pixxie, engage auto destruction."

" _Auto destruction engaged,_ " her feminine voice answers me.  
  
A countdown appears on the screen, five seconds remaining. I take off the helmet and toss it toward the Neutralizer, the metal chip run straight inside just in time for the electronic shock that destroys them both.

When I get back to Jimin I expect him to be reluctant to land me his helmet but he lets me have it willingly. 

"Did you contact Central?" I ask while putting his helmet on. 

"Yeah. They'll be here soon." By the thin line of his lips to say that he's not happy about his situation would be an euphemism. It must be the first time that he gets incapacitated on the job. "Go get the son of a bitch." 

I nod and sprint to where we left the car. Despite his biking skills I doubt that Jungkook has gotten far. Traffic in Downtown is absolute hell on weekend nights and it's well past midnight. The pain for me is that we're in Entertainment districts, it's gonna be a real challenge, to try and not cause casualties, those streets are flooded with civilians. The hoverboard is my best shot.

"Pixxie, localize the debtor." 

" _Localizating Jeon Jungkook in process_."

In the trunk of the car I seize the only hoverboard and whisper the ignition code. The engine hums in life and the platform lightens in blue led lights. As soon as I step on it, it elevates me in the air. Pixxie has localized Jungkook and I have a visual on him in a small video square on my screen. I vocally synchronize Pixxie's tracking parameter with the hoverboard.

"Lead the way Pixxie."

I leave the casino behind and hover above main street. Below the ribbons of cars stuck in traffic jam launch a concert of horns and profanities. The estimation on the control panel says that I'll catch up to Jungkook in fifteen minutes. I wonder where he's headed. Certainly not his home. Perhaps toward the border of the second City? I wouldn't bet on that. Kookie's always been smarter than average. Ravière could only buy him at least 24 hours. O.C.s of this city are specially ferocious at hunting down fugitives who trespass their territory. He's probably going to choose some place to lay low and plan his next move, preferably somewhere with the fewest cameras possible. 

"Pixxie, run a background check of the debtor's family and friends. See if any of them got property in Low Class neighborhoods."

She doesn't find any result. I change my commend to widden the possibilities and this time three names come up on the screen. Pixxie tells me the related info she's found about each of them. I double take when the last one's ID photo pops up on the screen. 

Min Yoongi.

It suddenly feels like the universe is playing a joke on both me and my partner. We got on a Chase with my childhood Crush as debtor and Jimin's ex as potential future accomplice. This makes for a dangerous combo. I can already smell a fucking disaster ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only two members of BTS left to introduce, Jin and Hoseok. I'm curious to know what roles do you think they'll have?


	5. Jungkook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! I wanted to Thank you for 110+ hits. But I haven't gotten any comments yet on the story and I'd really love to get your feedback please :)

When the door opens, Yoongi's flushed face appears. He's only wearing his pajama pants that hang low on his hips. From his puffy eyelids and wild hair, it's a safe bet to say that I've woken him. I take note of his earbuds. The type of music Yoongi listens to could wake the dead; he must've been exhausted to fall asleep listening to that kind of stuff.

"Dude, you know what time is it?" He groans.

I could almost laugh. Yoongi referring to 1 am as "late" is the joke of the century. A few months ago I had to drag his ass out of night clubs at 5 am. He'd be out all night until they closed the place then would call me to pick him up. Every freaking week-end. 

"My daughter lives here, remember?"

He squints, in Yoongi language it means ' _Don't try my nerves you jerk.'_

"How could I forget?"

He steps aside so I can get in. My cousin lives in a studio above the tattoo shop that his mother owns. It's a two-rooms place. The door leading to the bathroom is closed. Only the strict minimum is in the main room. On a small table: his VR Box, camera, and empty take-out containers. A bed. A closet. His screenwall displays what I think is an anime at first glance until the monster on the screen starts thrusting his tentacles inside three naked ladies with ridiculously gigantic breasts. 

I cross the short distance from the entrance to the crib where my little angel lies asleep, cocooned in a blue knitted plaid. Hot chocolate on a winter day, that's how my chest feels every time we're reunited, even after a short absence. My hands are reaching inside the crib when Yoongi grasp my shoulder.

"What in fuck's name do you think you're doing?" Yoongi whispers.

"I haven't seen her in four days!" I whisper back. "I'll just hold her for two minutes, she won't wake up." He gives me a pointed stare, I add, "I promise."

Yoongi retreats to his bed and I stand in the corner, my little angel in my hands. There's no chair but I don't mind. I breath my girl in, fingertips tracing her nose as small as a button. I have to resist the urge to cuddle her more. She hasn't gotten her Energy shot and the last thing I want is to pass on germs that will make her sick. A piece of my heart breaks when I put her back in the crib.

"Since when do you wear flannel shirts?" Yoongi asks.

I look down on my outfit. I traded my tunic earlier to a random biker that I cornered a few blocks away from the casino after I escaped from those O.C.s. Thanks to the clothing swap and to another one of Namjoon's gadget, a ring that falsifies facial features to trick cameras of the City, I was able to get away. The O.C is going to pursue that other guy who's wearing Namjoon's ring thinking that he's me. It was easier than I had anticipated to strike a deal with the guy, he took one look at my bike and was willing to get rid of his. 

"Since when do you watch Hentai?" I deflect. Yoongi doesn't seem to notice my avoiding the topic.

"This dude I'm going out with can't shut up about the thing. I decided to see what there is to it."

_Awesome. Even if he doesn't party anymore creeps keep stumbling into his life._

"Do me a favor and wipe that paternal concern off your face. One kid isn't enough for you to handle?"

"Speaking of which, shouldn't your mom be back in Arlene already?"

I had entrusted my daughter to Aunt Soo-ah, retired tattoo artist after she had her second child five years ago, sadly she lost him before he was eligible to get the Energy shot. Aunt Soo-ah never tattooed again after that tragedy and only manages the shop's finance. She has an apart adjacent to Yoongi's studio. 

"Those people in Ravière when they get married it's a whole bunch of festivity," Yoongi explains. "No matter the Class."

Aunt Sooh-ah's sister-in-law is tying the knot so she took a trip to the second City to celebrate with her late husband's family. They are all from a Low Class neighborhood in Ravière where Yoongi was born and raised until his dad got Disconnected. Yoongi was sixteen when Aunt Soo-ah decided to move back in Arlene. Our family had casted her out when she fell in love with a Low Class boy that wasn't even from our City. They both decided to leave Arlene and built their life together in Ravière.

"You could have moved temporarily to your mom's place while she's away instead of squeezing the baby inside this closet you stubbornly chose to live in."

"If you're gonna lecture me, it's time for you to go. You know I can take care of her. You think mom would have left if she knew that I couldn't?"

"It's not only about the baby Yoongi..."

"Alright, back off." He turns off the screenwall, throws his earbuds on the bed and in a few quick steps he's standing by the opened door. I don't move. I've been walking on eggshells around him for too long. He needs to see reason especially now that I'm not gonna be around to look after him anymore.

"You do realize that someday you're gonna have to put yourself back together, right? And the longer you postpone that dreadful task the harder it's gonna be."

He adopts the most sarcastic tone I've ever heard him use. "I am forever grateful for your wisdom."

I designate his camera. "When's the last time you photographed something?"

He lets out a frustrated noise somewhere between a grunt and a refrained sob. "I'm tired Jungkook. Please go."

He will not get rid of me that easily. I make a point of showing it by crossing the short distance between where I stand and his bed, I sit. 

This careless brat filled with toxic, pent up, rage is not my cousin. The Yoongi I know is an artist who'd never miss an occasion to be out there in the streets, capturing the hidden gems of our City with the lense of his camera.

"You never told me what happened." I say.

For a moment I brace myself in case he decides to come drag me by the collar and throw me out, but he closes the door and let himself fall on the floor as if being suddenly too tired to walk to the bed. 

He never did grived the breakup properly, getting caught up in the haze of sleepless nights with strangers, using pleasure to dull the pain.

"I wasn't enough." Yoongi's voice comes out shaken. I want to crawl on the floor, hug him hard, and tell him how precious he is but the best help I can offer is to give him the chance to set free the demons of his past relationship.

"Did he make you feel like that?" I ask. I never had the occasion to meet his ex. Yoongi went to a Secondary School in a Middle Class neighborhood. 

I was already on my sophomore year at uni when my aunt returned in Arlene. She couldn't afford Upper Class education for Yoongi; she had just enough money to rent a place in Downtown where she opened her tatoo shop and started off solo. She had a really rough start because even though tattoos are the rage in Ravière, her targeted clientele, Upper Class citizens of Arlene, considered themselves too sophisticated to cover up their body in ink. 

It was either fate or hazard that brought me to her shop that day. The moment I walked in we both recognized each other. I visited as often as I could. Eventually Yoongi and I grew from unknown relatives to close friends. I even introduced him to Namjoon at some point. The three of us were quite the little gang until the breakup.   
  
"He didn't have to." Yoongi says. "I could smell it in the way he talked about his dream of becoming Central's dog." His voice oozes disdain. "Every fight we ever had was about this. He loved to claim loud and clear that Central is the savior of humanity: Eternal life in eternal peace." He snorts venomously. "My ass."

"Did he know that you were from a Low Class neighborhood?"

"Yeah. Didn't stop him from spitting in my face that he'd Chase me down if he ever received a file with my name."

"Damn." _That's twisted._ "Please tell me you dumped him after that?"

"I did." The tiniest smirk streches his lips. "And I peed inside his car for good measure."

"That's my boy."

We both laugh. Relief flows through me. Talking might have helped bring Yoongi to the surface of this bottomless pit he was falling in. 

_I have to tell him now._

"They are after me Yoongi."

Disbelief widden his eyes.

"O.C.s?" 

I nod. 

"What? That's absurd. Don't you have a five year contract up your sleeves?"

"Correct." I see confusion plastered on his features but I don't have the luxury to stay here and provide him with details.

Though I'd like to share with Yoongi the question that started spinning around my mind since those O.C.s bursted in the prep room: why didn't I receive the 24-hours notice from Central? I really have to get going so I go to my daughter's crib.

"What are you going to do?" Yoongi asks behind me. "You have a plan?"

"It's coming along." 

I kiss my little angel's forehead, whisper to her the promise that we'll be reunited soon, then turn to face Yoongi.

"They'll come here, maybe later today or a few minutes after i'm gone. Don't answer their questions, ask for Supervisor Jennie Kim."

"What do I tell her?"

I smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YoonMin reunion is coming! Who's excited?


	6. Jennie

I refused to allow my brain to use the term "dating" even if Jungkook insisted to walk me around Arlene after my shifts at the Child Care Center or during breaks. Most of the time we'd go to a movie theater in the Entertainment districts or to an amusement park. He would travel all the way to my Low Class neighborhood to make sure I returned home safe when we got carried away and stayed in Downtown after sunset. Eventually my parents noticed the shadow that escorted me without ever making it to the porch. They confronted me about it. Mom was clear: either they meet him or I stop going to the Center. 

I hated the ultimatum. I had yet to let my guards down around Jungkook and stop thinking that I was merely a temporary distraction for him. If I brought him home whatever was going on between us would feel "real." It would also mean that it could end and I didn't like the way my heart sank whenever I thought about that possibility.

I had never heard of any girls at school who dated an Upper Class boy. Hell most of us never even saw what Dowtown looks like until we graduate Secondary School, get a shitty job at one of those big companies in the Heart of Arlene, if we're lucky enough to get hired without a degree. And here I was doing the trip there twice a week and letting myself the luxury to believe that there could ever be a possible future for me and this boy. Stupid. I feared my my parents would tell me all that and I knew they'd be right. 

The moment Jungkook would walk in my parents would know where he's from. People from Upper Class don't look like us because they don't eat whenever it's possible they eat whenever they want. It's distinguishable that Low Class residants are a lot skinnier. Energy keeps us alive but our weight shows when we're not eating healthily. 

Mom had a schedule for when we could have dinner at home. It was often close to whenever Dad and her got their paycheck from the local Primary School.

The night Jungkook was supposed to come wasn't a "dinner night" and despite my arguing with mom she wouldn't budge. There'd be no dinner. I cried the entire train ride that took me Downtown. The reason for my tears was the same for my refusal to meet Jungkook's parents. When they'd looked at me for the first time I wanted them to see a girl, not a Low Class girl so I kept postponing it until I made sure that my weight wouldn't be an issue.

Years later, despite the fact that I had a secure job and now lived in Middle Class, the Low Class girl inside me got scared when I learned about the baby. I new where Jungkook and I stood in term of relationship but I didn't have a clue if he was ready to have a child. 

My nail cracks under the pressure of my teeth. The sharp sound drags me into reality. I stop chewing my thumb. On the screenwall the hoverboard is getting closer to the motorcycle.

Officer Park got outed so easily, though I can't blame it on him. Those Neutralizers must have been facially encoded. Once they catch sight of their target they won't stop pursuing it. It's rare for regular debtors to be in possession of such gadgets. Since I got promoted as a Supervisor such a situation happened once. The debtor was an ex Host of Underground Showrooms. His buisness had gone bankrupt, it wasn't long before his creditors took huge chunks of what left of his money. The Seraphim assigned to the Chase thought he'd been hiding in a Neoghborhood in Raviere but the man found in the house wasn't our debtor. He used a jewelry to trick our cameras and had succeeded to reach the frontier of the third City. All of that in less than 24 hours.

Realization strikes me. I order an employee to bring me a copy of Jungkook's Chase file. I flip the pages until I reach the section related to his incarceration throghout this year. All of the underground showrooms he's been arrested in are suspected to have the same Host: a guy that goes by the pseudonym RM. 

_Now what would be the reason for an Host to keep employing someone who causes a raid every time he shows up?_

Their link must be deeper than business.

I flip back to the section reserved to relatives and relevant acquaintances. A patronym stands out. The Kims have partenered with Jeon Entreprises for decades, their speciality is Electronic Devices. It might be a long shot to claim that they are involved with Underground Showrooms, a corporarion that size wouldn't risk it.

What happens in the next few minutes will determine whether or not I choose to follow that lead.

"I've got you!"

The voice of Officer Kim in my ears brings my attention to the screenwall just in time to see him leap from the hoverboard and tackle an oblivious Jungkook off his bike. Hopefully the traffic jam prevented any disturbance that could've occured ortherwise. The Government and Central are old frenemies, it's always best if we cause as less public damage as possible during a Chase.   
  
The video square is briefly unfocused as both the O.C. and the debtor roll on the pavement to the sidewalk and fight to get the upper hand. Jungkook was caught by surprise and the advantage is for Officer Kim who succeeds at getting him face down, his hands immobilized behind his back. 

Officer Kim unclasps the magnectic strap around his forearm and handcuffs Jungkook. It isn't until they both get on their feet and the O.C finally face the debtor that we know the truth. Despite fhe fact the camera displays Jungkook's features I hear the O.C.'s astonished voice: "You're not Jungkook.

I pull out the earpiece, order that someone notifies me in case anything new happens and head to my office. I sit at my desk and launch the Communication breach. Apart from the High Seats in the government, Head of Big Corporations are the only ones allowed to have access to Online Communication. 

The Government never agreed to have a breach installed in Central's computing system, too many employees, they don't want things to get out of control so only the Big Boss has access to one on the computer in his office. 

Well, supposedly. 'Cause I have access to one too, but only because my correspondant is in the good grace of some High Seat people. 

The page loaded I type in the code of my corespondant's breach. The black box message appears with a countdown. I write in small white characters .

"Time to repay that favor you owe me. "

Kim Seokjin basically lives at work so I know he'll be in front of his computer. Soon an incoming thread pops up below my message.

"What is it?" 

"A debtor is using your company's gadgets. He might be linked to an Host who goes by RM. "

"That would be my dumb ass little brother. Namjoon. This is the last address I know of him."

The address attached to the message is located in an Upper Class neighborhood. I barely have time to copy it before the countdown reaches zero and the session ends. I open another window and CALL the first Seraph at the top of the list. Lalisa Manoban, the best.

This will be over soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this be over soon?


	7. Taehyung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little light on Vkook and YoonMin's past.

Right now there are two things that I hate the most in the world: being played and feeling like a fool. Today must be really my luck, while both are happening to me, there's seventy percent chance that a Supervisor might be watching. I'll drink my own piss before I let Jungkook ever humiliate me again.

The scathing memory my sixteenth aniversary sometimes haunt me in my sleep to this day.

Dad threw a party. I remember feeling as if the entirety of Arlene's Upper Class population had been invited, then I realized that not only did he knew all those people because of his position it was also due to the fact that he was a Senior. When you've lived that long you obviously have more acquaintances than the average human being. 

I saw an oppurtinty after the cake and the whole 'happy birthday' chanting thing. Now that most of the attention had diverged from me I could walk more freely without people accosting me every two seconds to try and get in the good graces of my father through me. 

I waltzed in the crowd until I spotted Jungkook near the cupid fountain, a flute of champagne in hand, the other in his pocket. He had unbottoned his vest, displaying a full view of his white shirt. I almost salivated watching him. His posture, sligthly parted legs, pround stance; his looks, four shiny silver piercings visible from his right profile, his fringes parted in the middle shadowing both part of his face.

He was alone so I could have approached him but here in the backyard I felt too exposed, instead I tailed him until he eventually went upstairs. He didn't go to a washroom as I thought he would. 

Dad's library, the most spacious room in the house gave the inpression of stepping into a world of books. He had the shelves disposed in circle, they reached the ceiling. The middle of the circle remained empty save for a sofa, that's where Jungkook stood when I let myself in after I mustered the courage to push open the door.

I had been waiting three agonizing years for that moment. I hadn't planned what I was going to say to him, whenever I rehearsed the scene in front of my miror I felt dumb and gave up. I figured I'd just go with the flow. Countless disaster scenarios constantly invaded my mind though. 

No light filtered in the room we were both envelopped in the shadows. Then it hit me in the gut. What was going to be my excuse for following him without looking like a creep? He lift me off that burden by speaking first.

"I'm listening," he said.

I hesitated. He's whole demeanor felt a bit too... composed. Obviously I wasn't discreet enough when following him all night because he noticed. This brought me to think about what else I might had not be able to hide as well as I thought. 

There, a flicker of cockiness in the way he slightly rose his chin to measure me from above. His next words confirmed my doubts.

"Come on. You waited, what, three years? Don't tell me cat got your tongue now."

"You knew," I realized.

He scoffed.

"I don't like being a narcissistic prick but yeah I kinda started to get the hang of it when you started showing up at the races."

Motorcycle races. Jungkook was awfully good. Shortly after I met him I never missed a single race, always watching him from the VIP section, until for some reason he quit racing. 

"Me assisting a few races doesn't prove anything."

Was it my pride I was trying to save? I don't know. I felt like a deer caught in headlights, maybe a real deer would have been able to flee in time but I stood there and let the car crash into me, his eyes the headlights, his words the car.

"Does you getting a semi whenever I'm within a six miles radius count then?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

He laughed, his upper body agited by his amusement. He laughed until he had to wipe the corner of his eyes with his forefinger. When he recovered he straightened his body, put both hands back in his pockets. 

He stopped attending Dad's dinners after that night and the last words he said to me played in a loop long after he left me standing in the library, "Whatever kid. Have a nice life."

I let the civilian go after Pixxie confirms that he's not one of Jungkook's acquaintances. He probably saw an opportunity to have a brand new bike and took it. 

My hoverboard is still in station from where I leapt earlier. I commend Pixxie to bring it over. 

I'm already standing on the platform when a car, or should I say a force of nature, screeches in a stop in front me. 

An O.C. car. 

_Perfect Jimin is back in service._

A simple glance at my partner when I get inside and I know that this is gonna be a hell of a ride. I buckle up. The idea of jumping up and down my seat isn't the slightest appealing. 

"What happened?" He asks.

"Facial falsification. Guy on the bike wasn't him."

Jimin glances to his watch, instinctively I do the same. Less than half an hour before Jungkook is declared a fugitive.

"Any idea where he might be?"

"Pixxie found a cousin from a Low Class neighbohood living in a tattoo shop Downtown."

"What makes you sure that's where he's headed?"

I don't want to dwell on the details and now's not the time for it anyway. "Trust me" is the only answer I give. He starts the engibe and we engage on the sidewalk. So much for not causing casualties.

I weigh my options. If Jimin had recognized the adress when Pixxie transferred it to the GPS in our car he didn't let he show. 

Did he not know where his ex lived or was he simply good at hiding his emotions? The latter seemed more probable except, I had seen Jimin on the verge of bursting of his skin before and it had happened because of said ex. Sure if he'd known the adress his face would have betrayed a hint of recognition. He wouldn't be able to control it just like he couldn't control himself on the first Chase we led together.

The location of the debtor had led us in a hotel Downtown. The receptionist obliged immediatly when Jimin asked for a pass to the debtor's room. We heard echoe of the music as soon as we stepped out of the elevator, it came from the debtor's room.

I was surprised when Jimin actually used the pass instead of kicking the door open before I remembered, discretion is key on the job, it can buy us precious seconds to catch a debtor off guard instead of causing a tumult that would undoubtedly alert of our presence.

The scene we stumbled in looked as if it was pulled straight out of a movie: A couple deeply entangled in a rabid passion. 

On the floor by the bed laid a forgotten card, the size and shape, small rectangular, and the symbol carved on it, ARMY's flag, left no doubt that it was from Central. The 24-hours notice. They knew we'd come, of course they knew, people always knew, and yet here there were. I tried and failed at not thinking about the expression, "Going out with a bang." 

Not even in my worst nightmares had I imagined that his would be the situation I'd have to deal with on my first day on the job. 

Thankfully the sheets wrapped their lower bodies which hid the intimate act but the noises and the face of the guy on top, bewildered blond hair, remained engraved in a part of my brain. 

In that moment I wished that Central had already cracked the code of nemory obliteration. 

Surely my partner would have known how to handle this but when I turned to him, Jimin was a statue. My voice didn't seem to register when I asked him if we should wait outside the hotel room. I had just lift my hand to pat him on the shoulder when he bolted out. 

I hesitated to follow, but it didn't look like the couple would be going anywhere so I left.

I found Jimin crounched down in the hallway, his helmet held in hands that shook savagely. Of all the emotions I had expected to witness on him, the one I actually saw in his widden eyes and quickened breath took me by surprise. He was terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! I'm dying to get some reactions on that Vkook flashback.


	8. Jungkook

  
I splash my face several time before I reach for the soap bar on the shelf above the mirror. I put my hands under the stream of running water and rub my palms to create foam. The ideal would be taking a shower, the exhibition and fleeing from these O.C.s left me sticky with dried sweat. However, I can't risk staying at Yoongi's place for much longer so I limit myself to the simple task of washing my face off the coagulated blood from the exhibition.

My face cleaned I cup some water in my palms and splash it around my neck, droplets run under my shirt, the refreshing sensation causes a temporary relief from my burning nerves. In the past two hours my mind was overflowed with thoughts that I had no chance to sort out in calm. 

Now that Central is after me I have to modify my plans. What do I know?

There's a Chase on my name.  
I don't owe Central a cherling.

So they made a mistake. If I hope to get myself out of this mess I have to find what led them to this misunderstanding. Central's system is known to be infallible which doesn't really help me. If such mistakes used to occur in the past I could have at least had a chance to know where to start looking for answers.

I can't outrun Central forever. 

Namjoon will hide our tracks until we get to his safest hideout, he has lots of those. They come in handy when he needs to lay low and let the police ransack his Showrooms. No matter how often his business got dismantled, the police never had a picture of Namjoon, not even his real name, they only know him by his pseudo RM. He's excellent at playing ghost and that's going to work in my favor. 

That being said, I can't rely solely on Namjoon. Should something happen and we get separated I'll have no one to cover my ass. Arlene wouldn't be safe anymore that's for sure. 

Well, before Central came after me, the plan was never to stay in Arlene. With all the exhibitions that I performed since the begining of the year I have now assembled fifty thousand cherlings my previous goal was to aim for seventy but with O.C.s on my back it's obvious I'll have to do with what I have. 

The plan was to escape to the third City with my daughter. As soon as I learned that Jennie was pregrnant it became clear for me that a life in Arlene was out of the question. That's when we began to fall out, because nobody in their right mind tries to go to Mirabal. The government forbid any traveling to the Third City back in 1102 A.L.W. 

A hundred and thirteen years later Mirabal is still on lockdown. During the Great Escape a lot of the criminals who broke free took refuge there and besieged the City with use of devices that they stole from the prison. A week of bedlam followed. It was all over the news at the time, I wasn't born yet but every year for ARMY's Ancestors Day channels run a broadcast of the events, this chaos ironically unfolded on 13th June while our nation celebrated in the streets.

The police took the City back on the seventh day of the siege. The criminals returned to their prison in the fourth City but not all of them were accounted for, the media wasn't provided with the exact number. After the siege the Three Class structure of Mirabal was no more; this makes it the most ideal place out of the four Cities of ARMY, to avoid the new tragedy that will unfold very soon in Arlene: an uprising.

Mom and Dad let me in on the secret about two years ago. The goverment alerted every Upper Class families they knew that were targeted. However, the details, such as who would lead the uprising, were kept from us. Only thing we've been given is the assurance that they would take care of the situation. Right, just like they did so well at taking care of the situation in Mirabal. I am not relying on them to protect my child. 

Jennie didn't agree with the plan. She took my parent's side which is to wait out the uprising in the safety of the bunker that the government assigned to all targeted Upper Class families. Nothing I said would make her agree to leave Arlene. 

"Mirabal is nothing but ashes and wilderness!" She would yell during our countless arguments. "And the parts of the City that are livable are infested with criminals."

"The criminals are recluse in the Outer Lands." I used to counter.

"We are not sure of that."

"Jennie please, think about the baby."

"That's the point Jungkook I'm only thinking about the baby. I am not raising my child in miserable conditions just because you're paranoid about a stupid uprising that will die before it even begins."

That's when I understood the real problem. Jennie is a Low Class girl she suffered through wants and needs during her entire childhood she wouldn't want that for her child. I could have explained to her from top to bottom that I was not being paranoid, hell I could have even bring Namjoon to tell her down to the smallest detail what he knew about the uprising but I finally understood that it would have made no difference. Jennie clung to the confort and illusion of safety provided by the Upper Class luxury. I let her have her way, at least for a while. 

My parents gave us one of their properties in the Neighborhood as a welcoming gift for the baby. Jennie and I moved in. During the nine months of pregnancy I tried to convice myself that the best solution was to stay in Arlene, I didn't succeed.

Central being after me might be a trick of Jennie. As a Supervisor I suppose she would have the means to pull that off. A part of me continues to believe that she wouldn't really let me get Disconnected but I stole her baby...

A concert of fists pounding against the bathroom door interrupts my line of thoughts. 

"Jungkook, get your ass out of here." Yoongi's anxious voice starts a panicked rhythm in my chest.

I turn off the faucet. 

I'm reaching for the doorknob when the blow happens out of nowhere and forces me to bend over. I breath through clenched teeth under the pain. My left temple throbs. I gasp, sharp razor blades are picking me apart. In the mist of confusion I realize that it's another episode. 

My feet become unsteady. Before I muster the courage to reach again for the doorknob, I fall. My vision blurries or is it the light that's fading? A shadow appears on top of me. Neither his silouhette nor the words he says are clear to me.

As I plunge in the abyss an horrible thought makes its way through the pain. If I don't get up now, they will catch me, they will bring me to Central. My eyelids close.

Another voice barges in. This time I hear it loud and clear. A simple order, barked with authority by a feminine voice, "Seize him!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the liberty of giving to ARMY its own currency : the cherling. 
> 
> Hoseok has an important role to play in this story. I can't wait to introduce him.


	9. Jungkook

My environment becomes a succession of blurred images and snippets of voices shouting incomprehensible words.

I desperately try to grasp onto reality. It feels like I'm inside a car that has veered out of control. The world is spinning. I know the crash is coming and normally I wouldn't worry because I can't get hurt, except it does hurt.

It hurts.

It fucking hurts.

I'm still aware of a few things. I'm in Yoongi's bathroom. I'm supposed to be running away from Central and this darn episode is holding me back. Then as the seconds tick by and the throb in my temple increases my thoughts become tangled webs of nonsense, not fully formed, merely words, until I realize that there are actually other people in the bathroom and it is their own words that are mingling with the raging war in my mind.

Earlier I let my eyelids fall close, the sight of the crude light seemed to worsen my condition so I don't see the person who seems to be arguing with Yoongi but I can tell the voice is feminine. 

"... no other choice," she's saying in a tone that indicates she's trying to reason Yoongi who refused to seize me when she ordered him to.

I try to open my eyes and get a glimpse of ankle boots and tight leather pants, then the vision tilts, and it feels like the floor is following the inclination. The world is spinning again. I abandon trying to get a look at the newcomer.

There are more words that slip away from me. I roll on my side, a useless attempt at trying to find a position that will help subdue the pain. 

Yoongi and the girl continue to bicker. He doesn't seem to agree with his interlocutor. I can't hear their exchange until Yoongi shouts: "That wasn't part of the plan!" 

The plan? 

What plan?

My plan? No. Yoongi doesn't know about it. I've never mentioned the uprising when I confided my daughter to my aunt's care.

I didn't lie to them, only omitted certain key facts. They know that people will try to cause harm to my family and that Jenny and I didn't agree on the best way to guarantee our daughter's safety.

"O.C.s coming after him wasn't part of the plan either." The girl's voice grows tense at being defied. "Now shut up and grab his legs."

That last sentence brings me back from the abyss I was falling in. It's as if the wheels of my brain that had given up on working are finally refueled by a mysterious force allowing me to make sense of what's happening around me. 

That voice doesn't belong to a stranger. I met her a few hours ago, in the prep room after my exhibition. She said her name was Kiyomi Saito.

Little by little the puzzle of the events that have happened to me since I started having those episodes begin falling into place. But it really begins before that, about two years ago when the government summoned Arlene's magnates in a private meeting where they exposed to us their knowledge about an upcoming uprising.

My parents and I were one of the four families reunited in the conference room, we were twelve people in total. The government's spokesperson, Mr. Cowell, in charge of presiding over the meeting sat at the edge of the rectangular glass table. 

It was easy to notice that the attendants were the most powerful families of the Prime City.

Mr. Seo Chief of Alerne's police. At his right sat his spouse and their oldest son. I knew Changbin for having frequented the same Secondary School as him. Typical spoiled brat. You'd think having a father in such an honorable position would have conferred him basic human decency. Namjoon couldn't stand the guy. If you'd spot a girl crying in a hallway with her uniform crumpled, nine times out ten it would be because of Changbin.

The Director of Arlene's Power Distribution was also there with her husband. On the other side of the table, Namjoon's parents sat next to mine with Kim Seokjin, the heir they'd designated among their twelve sons to take over Mr. Kim's position after he'd stepped down.

Mr. Cowell wasted no time at exposing the situation. In front of us yellow folders waited. We were asked to consult them as he spoke. They contained police reports about members of a terrorist organization that called themselves Anti Centralists. 

The police had found a direct link between numerous criminal activities perpetrated against Central and this organization. They had infiltrated the Tower posing as employees, in order to steal intelligence. The stolen information mostly regarded Officers of Central. Antis committed the most hideous crimes, including sequestration of people related to O.C.s or very close to them. The government had succeeded at keeping the media out of reach of their sordid activities even though they did try to broadcast their hostages for ARMY to see that Central was not infallible. 

Up until now the police had believed that attacking Central was their main priority but they had discovered that Antis were only pathing the way toward a bigger goal : us. The four pillars that kept the Prime City standing. Police, Power, Transport and Tech. Antis aimed to start an uprising by overthrowing these foundations. 

The second part of the folders consisted of an astonishing amount of personal information accumulated over the years about Changbin, Seokjin and me. We've been watched, analyzed, dissected. Antis knew everything about us, down to our core. And it didn't only revolve around clothing brand preference or location of private residences. They knew our routine. Who we met, when, at what particular time of the day. Which group of friends we were more entitled to spend a Friday night with. Which ex gave Seokjin the hardest time after a break up. The names, professions and addresses of five Middle Class girls who have been close to Changbin in the past and could be persuaded to join the Antis. They have tried to approach Jenny without her knowing so and had decided that she'd been too attached with the perspective of an Upper Class lifestyle to serve their cause. In that moment I couldn't be more grateful that I didn't have to suffer the betrayal of finding out that the girl I loved was secretly working with terrorists planning to hurt my family. Then worry began crawling into my chest, if Antis had judged Jenny useless it made her a potential target for at least as long as she'd be with me. 

By the end of the meeting Mr. Cowell had reassured us for what must have been the hundredth time that the situation was under control. The government had created a special unit in charge of dismantling the Antis. This special unit would be working in collaboration with the police forces of Arlene and Ravière. So far no terrorist activities were detected in the second City but some leads indicated that Antis might have based their HQ there.

When I had asked about the Third City Mr. Cowell had strongly refuted any possibility that Antis might be operational in Mirabal. Since the lockdown the government had considerably reduced the Power distributed to the City. The Blackout Hours made of Mirabal the least favorable environment for an organization such as the Antis to operate. 

Before we were dismissed Mr. Cowell had advised us to keep the folders and to familiarize ourselves with the faces of the members the police reports had pinned as possible suspects of the uprising.

Kiyomi Saito. 

Her name and face hadn't been on the files given to us by Mr. Cowell but I can now recall seeing her more than once during my exhibitions at different Underground Showrooms. It probably should have awakened my suspicion if I wasn't so concentrated on accomplishing my goal of assembling enough money to get my daughter out of here. My father made sure that I wouldn't be able to access any family fund nor my own bank accounts when he suspected that I wasn't planning to stay in Arlene. He claimed that I was foolish, that the Uprising might start in the Prime City but it could also reach any other City that I'd try to escape to. 

Well I wasn't about to just wait and let the Antis put my daughter in danger. Those people have been oppressed for over a century, they are merciless. They don't want us dead, they want us to suffer, constantly, just like they suffer when their loved ones are being taken away to get Disconnected while the Elite of the Upper Class enjoys an eternal life of luxury and opulence. 

Suffering. 

Somewhere in my brain, something clicks as the final piece of the puzzle fits into place. My first episode started shortly after I began showing up at the exhibitions, that would be around the same time that Kiyomi might have started to follow me. 

I snap back into the present moment when my upper body falls from the hands of one of my carriers and hits the floor, adding to my unbearable discomfort. I hear Yoongi curse, then he spits at Kiyomi: "What the heck is so interesting outside that you had to drop him for?" 

"There's an O.C. car parked below."

"Fuck." Yoongi mutters, letting my legs drop too. 

"You stay here, keep an eye on him." She orders. "I'll take care of them." I hear the click clack of her ankle boots as she departs. For the first time tonight, I pray for the O.C.s to come and get me.


	10. Taehyung

We pull up in front of the tattoo shop. Jimin kills the engine and snatches his helmet from the dashboard ready to jump out of the car when my hand grabs him by the shoulder. He turns toward me part annoyed part confused. 

"Something wrong?" He asks. 

I don't know what to tell him. Well, I do, but I don't know  _ how  _ to tell him. Please Jimin you're gonna see your ex soon try not to lose your shit this time? Yeah, no. 

"Nothing."

He cocks an eyebrow, visibly not buying it, then shoots another glance at his watch I barely resist the urge to do the same.

"Look if anything is bothering you, better spill it now." When I remain silent he prompts me, "Especially if it has to do with the Chase."

I decide to start with the lesser bad news. 

"I know the debtor." A rising panic emerges in my partner's eyes, I quickly add, "We aren't close friends. It's more like 'my dad is his dad's buddy' kind of stuff."

"Still. They should have assigned this Chase to another team."

I nod.

"I'm guessing the Supervisor made a mistake which she probably realized later but we were already gone."

Jimin sighs. His head crashes against the headrest and he pinches the bridge of his nose in barely contained frustration. 

"Is that gonna be a problem for you?" 

I haven't figured that out yet, but to hell if I'm gonna tell him that. Instead I reply, "The reason I told you this is because people might be listening when we have our helmets on and that's gonna be a problem for you if you overreact when we see Yoongi in there."

His expression when he hears the name makes me realize that it would have been a terrible mistake not to warn him of what he was going up against.

"Yoongi is the debtor's cousin," I clarify. "There's a high probability that we will find him in the apart too."

I give it some time to let the information sink in. I don't think I've ever seen Jimin that immobile. I'm starting to worry about the probability of him not recovering from his stupor soon enough when a bang on my window startles both of us.

The girl standing outside wears an expression of distress, her purple bangs shadow a juvenile face, maybe around my age. She mouths the words "help me" and "please". Before I'm completely aware of my actions, I've opened the passenger door. Standing in front of her I notice how petite her stature is which somehow makes her look even more vulnerable.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my eyes surveying the area behind her. More often than not fugitive debtors would penetrate in people's business to take refuge. The district we're in seems mostly occupied with pubs and karaokes, none of which a place I think Jungkook would try to hide in but then again I've never really known him. 

"It's my sister…" she begins before being interrupted by Jimin who has gotten out of the car. 

"Taehyung, step away from her," he orders, the urgency in his voice sends a cold chill along my spine. In a second the desperate expression disappears from the girl's face and is replaced by eyes sharp like daggers and a smile seemingly innocent but undoubtedly vicious. It's my cue to retreat from a few step. 

"I see you've recognized me Officer Park."

"Would be hard not to when your face has been all over Central's reports for the past three years" 

"Who's that?" I intervene feeling left out of the conversation. 

"Kiyomi Saito. An advocate for the Antis, that is if you consider sequestration of O.C.s family members as 'advocating for the cause.'"

A dry laugh escapes from the girl's throat and as I watch her features transform in a mask of hatred I realize that she's not as young as I supposed.

"Are we really going to get judgmental now, Officer Park?"

Jimin doesn't answer. If she decides to attack us, she'll be outnumbered but I doubt that an Anti would make the mistake of taking upon O.C.s alone. In situations like these I understand why Central and the Government will never be true allies. If they allowed O.C.s to carry the same kind of weapons used by the police we'd be less vulnerable. 

I regret not having put my helmet before stepping out of the car. Jimin and I would have been able to communicate without that Anti being able to hear us. But we still have some luck on our side, this district is packed with cameras, authorities will be alerted soon enough if things don't go our way. We wouldn't have been so lucky if this Chase had led us in a Low Class neighborhood.

Cameras!

An idea strike. I know how to distract that Anti long enough for us to take her down. I turn to share my idea with Jimin. Hopefully he'll be able to understand the subtle sign I'll make him. However I don't have the time to catch his attention, my vision blurs, my knees fail me, and before I reach the ground I'm enveloped in darkness.

*** 

The first sensation that registers is a dull ache at the nape of my neck. Then I realize that my throat feels funny. I try to gather some saliva that perhaps could help assuage the dryness. It's no use. 

I crave water. 

My eyelids flutter open. The surroundings spin a little before I can focus on a specific point. A bared light bulb at the ceiling. The crude light burns my retinas.

Where am I?

The second thing that strikes me is that I've been stripped off my clothes save for my underwear. I don't have my shoes either.

"What the..." the sentence dies before I can finish it. My throat feels caught in a vise. When I try to stand up there's a restraint on my wrists, those are curiously drawn behind my back...

I'm tied up.

I fully recover my senses as my current situation becomes clear to me. I'm being held as an hostage. Just as trying to unfold the recent events that might have lead to this moment someone grunts at my left and I realize that I'm not alone. My partner, who's in the same posture as I am, begins to recover.

"Jimin..." My voice is a broken record. I try again with more force. "Jimin!"

He's fully alert now. He momentarily appears disoriented as he takes in the basement where we're stuck. He looks down on himself, tries getting out of his ties before giving up. 

"Fuck." He looks back at me. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know." My body feels weird. There are too many unfamiliar sensations to try and decipher them all. 

"It was her, Kiyomi." Jimin says. "She injected us with something." The flashes come back to me. Her distressed face and desperate shouting while she pounded against my window. 

Saying that we're in a bad position would be an euphemism. Jimin seems to know a lot about this Kiyomi girl, maybe it could play in our favor when trying to get out of this mess, though I'm not sure how we're gonna pull this off. Before I can ask my partner if he has a plan, the sound of footsteps on stairs leading to the basement breaks the silence, it comes from behind us so neither Jimin nor I can see who's coming until he stands before us. 

He has the same shade of blond hair as the first time I saw him when Jimin and I entered that hotel room to find a couple in the middle of an intense moment of intimacy. An apparent angelic face but the steel in his eyes says can't fool anyone. He's certainly more devil than celestial. If I'm in shock I can't even imagine what Jimin must be feeling right now.

Min Yoongi claps his hands in a satisfactory manner a coy smile curving his lips.

"So how are we feeling?" His gaze travels between Jimin and I waitng for our answers. I'm too stunned to manage a word yet but my partner unlashes.

"What the fuck is this?" He barks. 

Yoongi's smile widdens.

"I'm tempted to say karma but to be honest it's simply a happy coincidence that you happened to be the O.C. tailing Jungkook."

"Central will find him," Jimin spits. 

"They can try." He turns his back on us and goes to sit on the metal chair a few feet away. He adopts a casual posture, ankle atop of his knee and hands crossed behind his head. "You must have questions. Please, I'm all ears."

"What was that injection?" I ask. 

" Kiyomi is still working on the name," he seems to think for a moment before saying, "We'll call it Parasite for now. It attacks the Energy flow inside the body. The effects are usually programmed to begin weeks after injection but this shot you got is an improved version."

His tone is similar to that of a teacher who is passionate about a new subject he's eager to introduce to his students.

"What effects?" Jimin asks, which I'm grateful for. Every words I get out makes my throat suffer.

"Well you see, this is where it becomes interesting. Our Parasite is sort of a reverse form of the Energy Flow."

He pauses for dramatic effect, eyeing us both with a smirk that proves how much he is enjoying the situation. Then finally when none of us take the bait, he continues.

"Energy prevents us from needing any sustenance, well, Parasite changes that. It makes you hungry and thirsty, constantly. No matter how much you eat or drink, the crave will never cease. And that's just one of the phases, we've been experimenting on my dear cousin, Jungkook, about another aspect of Parasite: the migraines.

Once Parasite is in, two things can happen. Either you slowly start being vulnerable to pain as if you've never received the Energy shot, which is happening to both of you right now, or you get the migraines, as it has been happening for Jungkook. Trust me you guys, really don't want to be walking in his shoes right now." He scoffs then recovers somewhat a serious face. 

"I could tell you more about Parasite but I'm not into the scientific stuff, that's Kiyomi's job. To make it simple let's view it like this: You remain immortal but you'll be in so much pain that you'll beg to get Disconnected."

He seems to have to have reached the end of his monologue. Next to me Jimin laughs, it's bitter and mocking. Yoongi's face remains complacent but the muscle along is neck strain which betrays the rage he's trying to keep subdued. Apparently he and my partner have the same effect on each other.

"Antis complain all over the press about how unaffordable the Energy bill never cease to grow while you guys have enough money to gamble on pathetic experiments?" 

"We have sponsors." Yoongi replies. And those 'pathetic experiments' as you said weren't what we aimed for at the beginning. Our goal was to get human back to what we were before Central. We looked for a way to completly annihilate the Energy flow. If there's no Energy to pay for, Central can't go after people. But that didn't work." 

"So what you aimed for the next best thing?" I ask. "Starting a Class war, how is that supposed to make everything better?"

He laughs. "The rich can suck my balls." 

"The rich don't make the system. Central makes it and the government approves."

"And everyone will get to reap what they sow."

It's no use arguing with him. Beside me my partner is now strangely quiet. Yoongi stands up and walks to him, crouching to be at his eye level. "I guess you chose the wrong side," he says but he gets no reaction out of Jimin who simply stares back at him. It lasts long enough for me to wonder if it's a 'who's going to blink first' contest but then the moment is over and Yoongi stands up.

"My advice is to get some rest, believe me you'll need it."

I can't let Jim leave without asking, "Can I see the debtor?" I don't know where it's coming from, and judging from Yoongi's perplexed face neither does he.

"You guys know each other?"

He's probably trying to figure out if it's a "all rich people know one another" thing or if it's deeper than that. 

It really is not deeper than that but I have this urge rising inside me to make sure that Jungkook is going to be okay. It's overwhelming and almost clouds all the discomfort that Parasite is causing me. Then I realize, it might actually be a good thing that we got sequestrated by Antis, because I sure as hell wouldn't have delivered Jungkook to get Disconnected. 

  
  



End file.
